


Weather Warning

by chasing_the_sterek



Series: Inktober 2017 [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Enough Is Enough, Gen, Hurt John, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Kidnapped John, Rain, The Thames, john there is an entire tag devoted to you getting kidnapped, kidnappings, that's a tag, there's even one which specifies you by surname
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 18:14:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12259530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasing_the_sterek/pseuds/chasing_the_sterek
Summary: He curses himself for getting kidnapped, but five burly men on one semi-crippled army doctor is bad odds even when they don't have drugs on their side, and it's not like he didn't give as good as he got.He's so cold.He hopes Sherlock is looking for him.///Tied to the Tower Bridge in the middle of heavy rain, aching and bleeding and shivering fit to shake apart, John is running out of time and consciousness.





	Weather Warning

**Author's Note:**

> How ironic is it that on today's pleasant-sounding, almost serene prompt, I went for kidnapping and the like, and yet yesterday when one of my prompts was literally "hurt", I wrote Halloween decorating fluff which did not contain any hurting (of main characters) whatsoever?
> 
> Anyway. It's "water/stars".

John looks down at the Thames.

It looks still, too far away for him to see the waves this strong wind must be causing. He wonders absently if it's warmer in the river than it is here, with freezing metal digging into his wrists where most of his weight hangs off the spires behind him.

He curses himself for getting kidnapped, but five burly men on one semi-crippled army doctor is bad odds even when they don't have drugs on their side, and it's not like he didn't give as good as he got.

He's so cold.

He hopes Sherlock is looking for him.

///

John startles awake as a crow flies past. If he's falling asleep, he's losing time. He needs to stay awake. _Focus, focus._

The night sky stretches above him, for once unhindered by the light pollution issues that plague the tightly-knit maze of buildings. He's almost glad to be up here, just to have seen this - the skyline of London rising up to meet the stars, the faint clustering of the Milky Way that can be seen from Britain arching down to kiss a building's dark silhouette.

///

He wakes up again. _Stupid, stupid. Thank God for birds._

It's cold.

The spires of Tower Bridge aren't things he's ever paid particular attention to before, even just walking around London, so he doesn't have any idea how high up he is here, tied around one of the ornate-looking golden spires that cap each tower.

_Focus, focus. Don't fall asleep._

His teeth are chattering. John takes it as a good sign that he's still shivering, since he has no idea how long he's been here, especially since he keeps passing out. He only has the turning of the stars, the lightening of the sky, the occasional vague tolling of Big Ben drifting in on the wind.

The bridge beneath him rumbles to life. It's an untrustworthy timekeeper, John knows that, but he can't resist trying to use it to estimate times anyway.

The wind is strong, resists and pushes him back down when he tries to get higher to alleviate the pain in his shoulders.

John shivers and sighs and wobbles dangerously on his tiptoes.

///

He startles back into consciousness. _Idiot,_ his head whispers, but he doesn't quite know why.

He's not sure why he's awake. It's comfortable and warm here, even has that nice sound rain makes on a roof -

". . . ohn!"

What?

John shakes his head sluggishly. "Don'wanna get up, 'lock," he mumbles.

"John! I can see you, just hold on -"

See him? He's at home, asleep, in bed. Sherlock shouldn't be in his room, but if he is, then he can definitely see him. Of course he can, John's right there. Not that he should be there.

"Get out of m'room," he tries.

There's a loud clatter nearby, a scrambling noise accompanying it - John blinks bleary eyes open, admonishments and questions on the tip of his tongue, and has to reel backwards at the surge of dizziness.

And then Sherlock is there, picking his way cautiously along the slope that is more running water than rooftile, and John feels a heady sense of relief and thinks, _thank God._

**Author's Note:**

> Might revisit this one day and revamp it, but for now it's fine as-is. Should be, anyway.
> 
> ~~Can you tell I'm in a Sherlock zone yet~~


End file.
